


fugitive

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Bubble Bath, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Running Away, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy helps Coulson run.





	fugitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



"It came with the flat. Pretty old school, huh?"

The narrow apartment ends with a window and old glass panes that look like they've never been washed.

Except by city rain, which runs down them now and distorts the light.

She already had to tell him to watch a couple of the floorboards, all of which groan under their feet.

It's probably a bit of a death-trap and there are reasons this building is not condemned. Reasons why she chose it.

One is that it gives her quick access to the roof, and with her powers it makes it easy for her to come and go.

But the bathroom, with the old claw foot tub and the city lights coming in through the window, looks out of place.

"You have to let the hot water run for awhile," she tells him as he eyes it.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of using it," he replies to her, looking at the peeling pink wallpaper.

"The place doesn't have a shower, sorry."

"Don't be," he tells her with a grateful smile.

She helped him run. Further than he was able on his own. He's more worried about what will happen to her now, truth be told.

Her hands are wringing the rain out of her hair as she stands in front of the pedestal sink, still wearing her Quake suit.

SHIELD had tracked her all over when she ran, but he had always suspected she ended up in Hell's Kitchen at some point.

That all seems like ages ago. Time seems to move too fast and so slowly at the same time now.

"Here," she hands the sole towel out to him, nodding at his head, and he takes it and starts to dry his hair.

"If you're not, I am," she tells him, walking a few steps and bending to turn on the water.

On the shallow built-in shelf there is a box of cheap something that makes bubbles, and she starts to unzip her suit.

"I'll make food," he tells her, instead of imagining her enjoying little comforts.

"There's nothing exciting," she warns, putting her boot up on the toilet to unzip it.

"We could order a pizza," he suggests, folding the towel neatly and holding it.

"They won't come here," she tells him with a smirk, walking past him back into the room holding her boots. He can hear the floor groaning. "No one comes here."

He puts the towel down on top of the toilet and then checks the temperature of the water. It feels warm, but tepid.

There is a heater back in the room, he saw it earlier, but the light fixtures look far older. He remembers in his parents' house in the winter there you had to increase the pressure to get the water really hot. He opens up the spigot, making the room seem louder.

There is steam building when there was none before, and Daisy is in the room with him again.

"You sure you don't want to relax? Warm up a little? Bubbles?" she finally adds, with a coy smile, picking up the box shaking it.

The truth is, he is exhausted and he knows he looks like shit. He owes her so much, though. And he's still coming down from the adrenaline of being hunted.

Still trying to figure out what this all means, when she had so much more to lose than him.

"Not a bubble guy?" She stops putting him on the spot and pours the bubble flakes in, and stirs her hand in the water. "It's hot now. Ouch."

He looks at the tub, her hand in the water topped with generous amounts of bubbles. There is a worn leather sofa with a blanket in the other room waiting for him, which is more than he deserves.

The steam is thick in the room now, with the door just cracked and she turns the faucet off. He's asking himself why he hasn't left. What does he think is going to happen between them?

She saved him again. She leads. She is always having to save something or someone and she's earned this.

"I'm still the Director of SHIELD, Phil," she reminds him, touching his arm. "Should I make it an order?"

"I'm not a SHIELD agent," he reminds her, seeing his reflection and the stubble on his face. "Not anymore."

That makes her sigh. She is the Director, but she doesn't look like that or like Quake right now. Something in between. He remembers seeing her like this, years ago, before he had to leave her alone because he was the Director and not something else.

"Just a fugitive," she tells him, like it's the worst idea she's ever heard. "I've worked really hard to keep you off our radar."

"I'm sorry I screwed that up," he grimaces. When did he get so sloppy? Did he want to get caught?

"I'm not really regretting my decision at the moment."

He gives her a puzzled look, because the way she said it sounds so loaded, he must be imagining it. He's imagined a lot of things.

Turning himself into SHIELD. How that would go. He decided it would make things harder for her. Complicated.

She touches her fingers to his jacket and pulls at the lapel and hugs him against her. Breathes in against his collar. All he can think about is how she fits against him. How good it feels to hold her back. That he's been running and he could run forever and never find a place like Daisy.

It makes it far too easy when she draws back, holding his gaze, and starts to strip the jacket down his arms. His fingers unbuttoning his own shirt and her hands on his belt buckle working it apart.

He helps her take her tank top off, not because she needs help, he thinks, but because she wants him to do it. She takes off her briefs and sinks into the tub beneath the bubbles while he takes his shoes off and then makes himself fit into the water, his back against her front.

Her fingers slide along his arm, drawing bubbles along his limbs, and she puts her cheek against his back when he touches her knees and draws her legs around him more tightly.

"You could turn yourself in," she says, like she's working out scenarios in her head, her fingers tracing over the scar across his heart. "I could cut a deal."

"I don't want to make things worse for you. That's why I left," he replies, trying to turn over his shoulder to look at her.

"Never seeing you? Worrying about you? That's worse. I miss you. In much more...complicated ways than I expected. And I wanted to doubt myself-"

"You should've ICED me," he chuckles, and feels her laughter against his back.

"I should have."

He turns around in the water to face her and presses his mouth against hers, feeling her sit up against him as she wraps her hand around the nape of his neck and kisses back.

Time moves too fast again, but through it all, he thinks about how they fit, about how his feelings for her have always been about longing and hope. How she is like an anchor and he's been drifting without her.

"Come home," she asks him, her eyes so full, catching her breath, and his lips mark her neck and then he opens her mouth with his, answers her with a kiss and then deepens it, makes room between them for her to fit them together the way she wants.

The water starts to slosh out of the tub in small waves as they move together, their sounds echoing against the walls of the narrow space, until all the tension and the doubts are washed away, too.

And then time moves slow again, but without the dull ache of counting empty minutes and hours. He will count every second of this, memorize it.

"I am home," he tells her, pressing his lips against her temple.


End file.
